The Changing Seasons

In every part of the world, seasonal changes are marked by special events. People in Capistrano (wherever that is) get to see their swallows return in spring. People in San Diego witness the migration of gray whales at the onset of winter. Here at Bully Hill Farm, we see the first signs of deer parts in fall. It is a truly magical, albeit quite gruesome occurrence. At times, it appears as if I have been burying landmines in hopes of surprising unsuspecting stags. Although I have been striving to be unbearable, I don't think landmines are the answer. To the contrary, I have nothing to do with the migration of deer parts to my yard. It just sort of happens.

On this lovely morning, as I walked outside, I was greeted by the first deer hoof of the season. Yes, yes, magical. Moments later, I witnessed the arrival of the first deer pelt of the season.

It is still quite early in the season so the pelt was still a bit bloody.

Cowboy ran about with the pelt for a bit, taunting his mother with his grand prize. Much fun ensued.

The arrival of fall, as marked by the death of an innocent animal, might cause a lesser man to think, but not me. I've got a month of work-free living to do and I'm not about to ruin it by thinking. There are just some things that I cannot resolve. Since we have destroyed the natural balance of things by eliminating wolves from our ecosystem, must we kill deer to keep their numbers in check? (Though I do know a place where we can get a few wolves to release into the wild). Are the ice caps melting due to global warming or is this merely a cyclical event? What is that guy in the new Snuggie commercial so happy about? I just don't know right now. Get back to me in early December, I'm just going to settle in and watch the chickens prepare to fly south for the winter. Afterall, fall is officially here.